Disclaimer: I don't own the Worst Witch.
A/N: I had originally planned to write some early fluffy Valentines goodness, but the words just weren't flowing. Rather than force it, I decided to just go the opposite way and gift you some nice angst instead. It broke my heart to write this but it has been stuck in my head for the past three days so I had to get it out. I shall redeem myself by soon beginning on my notes for the next chapter of 39 Degrees. :)
*materialises to secret hideaway cave*
The title comes from the song 'Secret Love' by Stevie Nicks (My 2nd favourite track of her solo stuff!) and the fic itself was very loosely inspired by it.
My Secret Love, Secretly Died
No sooner had she dried her eyes, she was hit by another tidal wave of emotion; a burning agony weighing down heavily on her, and her heart breaking into tiny pieces over and over again as she reached for the envelope lying on the staffroom table, the familiar slant of her writing, looking up at her and mocking her. She sighed despondently, knowing that she could not put it off any longer.
Despite her tears, she was angry. More than that, she was furious. Furious at the situation and furious with herself for allowing herself to be in the position that she was upset in the first place.
It had been building within her for a while, slowly simmering away, until today, when it had finally boiled over. She knew that her speedy exit from the staffroom earlier at breakfast had not gone unnoticed by her colleagues; it was partly the reason why she had avoided them for the most part of the day.
Avoided her.
She had wanted to cry. She had wanted to scream, to shout, to swear, but she hadn't. Instead, she had simply quashed all her feelings tight inside of her, fully throwing herself into her classes and cutting herself off from her own emotions. It had worked too, but now…now there was nothing left for her to hide behind. Now, reality beckoned.
Why she was this upset was beyond her.
Deep down, she had always known how things were going to end; it didn't matter how much she wanted it, it was never meant to be.
Looking at the facts, it should have come as no surprise, but it had, knocking her to the ground and stealing away the strength she needed to get back up. She felt like she couldn't breathe, her every gasp more helpless than the one before.
'You stupid, stupid woman', she whispered angrily to herself.
She had allowed herself to get caught up in a fantasy, a fantasy that had now run away from her. If anything, how she was feeling now was mere punishment for her own careless actions.
The attraction had not exactly been love at first sight, rather more of a slow burn – a very slow burn. Truthfully, the first time they had met, her only feelings when she took in the woman who was standing before her had been ones of utter dislike and it was obvious to her that the feeling had been entirely mutual – it was one of the few things they would come to agree on.
She had sworn there and then not to have anything to do with the woman standing opposite her but, over the years, they were forced to work together, and that instant dislike that had once been there, turned to tolerance: a civility borne only for the wellbeing and harmony of the school.
Then something happened.
She didn't know when, she didn't know what, she didn't know why, but she knew that *something* had stirred within her.
Little things.
The odd smile that came her way, she would find herself reading more and more into it, analysing it every which way, turning it into something she now knew it not to be. Those infamous arguments between them started deliberately on her part, so desperate to see the spark in those piercing eyes as she watched her fight her corner.
That spark, flickering dangerously, as it fuelled more and more desire within her.
Despite all of the warning signs, she had always held onto that flicker – albeit slowly dying flicker – of hope. A hope that one day, her feelings would be recognised and in turn reciprocated. She had sworn that she would not give up, until the last flicker died.
That flame had almost burnt out.
Her fingers grasped the envelope before letting it go once more. Her inner voice telling her that she would open it once she had a drink.
Dutch courage that was all she needed.
The first glass might have been Dutch courage but now the bottle was empty, drained right down to its last dregs. Now, it was purely a drink of desperation, a futile attempt to block out her feelings and the basic means to stop her head from thinking and her heart from breaking.
She wasn't asking for forever.
She wasn't sure she even believed in forever. The so-called forever had burnt her one too many times in the past.
All she wanted was a chance.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Just a chance.
Alas, the dice would never roll her way…
Carefully sliding her finger under and breaking the seal, she opened the envelope: her hands trembling, uncharacteristically, as they removed the contents. She didn't know why she was putting herself through this.
She didn't need to read it; she already knew what was inside, and she knew that once she read it, the final glimmer of hope she had held onto tightly for so long – even since the announcement - would disappear into the darkness, lost forever.
A shower of silver love hearts and horseshoes fell out of the card and cascaded onto the table.
The flame was extinguished.
Mr Serge Dubois & Miss Imogen Maria Drill
Request the pleasure of the company of
Miss Constance Hardbroom
On the occasion of their marriage
Saturday, April 4th, 2015
Castle Overblow, England, 1pm